


What You Can't See Can Still Hurt You

by coveredincrumb (thegiftoftime)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Character Study, Crowley's pov, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Through The Ages, M/M, Mentions of Death, Repressed Feelings, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), heartbreak and reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22389223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegiftoftime/pseuds/coveredincrumb
Summary: A closer look of Aziraphale and Crowley's growing and wavering friendship over the ages from the Garden of Eden to the end of days through the gaze of a very observant serpent.Crowley was a demon of few words. Some demons worked with words, while he liked to work in actions. He found the world a bit easier to enjoy when people kept their mouths shut. When you just watched and took everything in, you caught so much more. In 6,000 years, a demon sees a lot, especially if they took the effort to actually see what was happening- the pain, the joy, the discoveries, the loss, the growth of the human spirit.Not just the human spirit, however. Crowley could see all of that and more in his friend Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	What You Can't See Can Still Hurt You

**Author's Note:**

> As I've watched Good Omens over and over again, I cannot help but wonder what exactly is going through the heads of a certain demon and angel as they face fortune and heartbreak. There was so much emotion hidden between comedic dialogue. There is so much more to see when we spend the effort to look again. I think Crowley definitely did. I love a good heartfelt story between two ethereal beings who have had 6,000 years to reflect and grow with each other.

Crowley was a demon of few words. Some demons worked with words, while he liked to work in actions. He found the world a bit easier to enjoy when people kept their mouths shut. When you just watched and took everything in, you caught so much more. In 6,000 years, a demon sees a lot, especially if they took the effort to actually  _ see _ what was happening- the pain, the joy, the discoveries, the loss, the growth of the human spirit. 

Not just the human spirit, however. Crowley could see all of that and more in his friend Aziraphale. From the beginning, or rather the Garden, Crowley had been quite enraptured with watching the Angel and his many turmoils. The Guardian of the Eastern Gate was determined, but also soft in his actions. He reminded himself of his duty to Her, but along the way, actions seemed to bend with his enabling morality.

**He had seen this with the flaming sword and Eve.**

“Didn’t you have a sword? It was flaming like anything.”

“I gave it away.”

“You  _ gave it away?” _

“ I gave it  _ away!  _ There are  _ vicious _ animals! It’s going to be cold out there and she’s expecting already, and I said here you go -flaming sword-  _ don’t _ thank me.”

The absolute oaf had given up the very thing that was supposed to make him the Guardian of the Eastern Gate. All for the sake of what the humans would inevitably face out in the real world. He knew God wouldn’t be happy about that, but the Angel seemed to be hopeful that his choice was the right one for what was to come, even if he got berated for it by others. Crowley had never seen anything like it, and that was only the beginning.

  
**He had seen in with the Ark.**

“But they’re  _ drowning _ everyone else? Not the kids, you can’t kill  _ kids _ .”

Aziraphale could only keep his eyes away from Crowley’s interrogating slits of pupils as he nodded. 

“Well, that’s more the kind of thing you’d expect  _ my _ lot to do.” 

“Yes, but when it’s done, the Almighty is going to put up a new thing, called a  _ rain-bow _ , as a promise not to… drown everyone again”

For only a moment was there a thread of self-assurance that this was the right thing to do. But even after he had said it, Aziraphale knew just how nonsensical it all was, even if he could tell Crowley over and over again that they couldn’t judge the Almighty and her  _ ineffable _ plan. 

Even Crowley couldn’t quite believe that She would do that to make a point. It all really did sound a lot like something his lot would do. What he saw was defeat and regret and doubt, nothing an angel should have for the  _ ineffable _ plan of God herself. Aziraphale was apprehensive and Crowley knew that for those not on the ark, Aziraphale later had made it so it was a quick and not drawn out ending. For decades after that, as Noah and his family slowly rebuilt from the wreckage, Aziraphale seemed cast-down and despondent, almost worried about what his next task from up top would be.

**He had seen it with the Christ Child.**

When Mary and Joseph struggled to find a place to stay for her birth, he burned the wax candle outside of a certain inn with a stable in the back a little brighter to bring their attention to it so they wouldn’t have to be outside in the cold of Bethlehem. And later, when Christ was crucified, the demon watched the soft wincing movement of the angelic mouth as he spoke of Jesus and his accomplishments while they hammered in the nails. There was the pride in his eyes and then the wavering acceptance of such a harrowing act on the son of God herself. 

“Did you, uh, ever meet him?”

“Yes. He seemed a very bright young man. I showed him all the kingdoms of the world.” 

When people slowly left the scene of the crucifixion, Crowley didn’t miss the hand on the beam of dogwood below the young man and how it flexed with grief and angst for what had happened. Tears quietly streaming down his face as he muttered a “Lord’s Prayer” begging that people would be forgiven for what had happened that fateful and  _ ineffable _ day. 

**He had seen it with King Arthur and the Round Table.**

They had been essentially canceling out all the work of ‘fomenting’ dissent and peace in  _ damp _ places. -- It really was quite damp. What would their head offices even think? Michael was a bit of a stickler and an angel  _ certainly _ did not want to get Gabriel upset with them.

“Oh, our lot have better things to do than verifying compliance reports from Earth. As long as they get the paperwork, they seem  _ happy enough _ . As long as you’re being seen to be doing  _ something _ , every now and again”

After seeing Aziraphale’s look of uncertainty, the angel quickly snapped out of his doubt for what he had been sent to Earth to do; fight for heaven and spread good no matter the forces against him - even  _ a wily serpent _ .

“ _ No! _ Absolutely not. I am  _ shocked _ that you would even imply such a thing. We are not having  this conversation. Not another word!” 

**He had seen it in French Revolutions.**

Crowley may have caught him being drug into a prison cell for the sake of some silly crepes, but when they exited the prison and walked past the swarms of people cheering on the beheading of individuals, Crowley could tell that it bothered the Angel. He had stopped, setting a hand on Aziraphale’s forearm and asked if he was okay. Aziraphale shook off his hand to his dismay and just shook his head, his blond curls falling onto his forehead.

“People shouldn’t be so happy to see someone just… decapitated like that.”   
  


Crowley rose a brow at him, 

“The punishment is fitting the crime, isn’t it? These people are revolting against a terrible  regime. I’d think that your side would be a bit pleased at the democracy.”

What Crowley saw was a bit surprising. The angel’s brows went taught and a grunt of resentment vibrated from his throat. 

“ _ Our side _ has preached for the loving of one another and the Ten Commandments themselves speak of the preservation of life, not willy nilly murder for the sake of a  new government bound to fail. They were ready to discorporate me, for heaven’s sake!”

Both of them knew that was a load of bollocks. The masses staring up at the ark as the rains came didn’t ask to be annihilated. Jesus on the cross hadn’t had much of a choice when God had destined for him to be crucified as an example and to erase original sin. John the Baptist never wished to be martyred and- the list could go on and on. Crowley didn’t want to push it because he knew what Aziraphale was actually saying and showing him through his anger for the whole situation the humans had cooked up. He just grunted in response and pushed him towards that crepe shop that miraculously was a bit farther away from the screaming cheers surrounding the guillotine. 

**He had seen it with Shakespeare and his flopping Hamlet.**

Angels weren’t necessarily supposed to indulge themselves in earthly pleasures, but there weren’t any direct statutes against it. Aziraphale took advantage of this even if he knew he probably shouldn’t. When their ‘Arrangement’ came to fruition, Shakespeare was on the brink of becoming a flop. When Crowley was walking into the Globe Theatre, he couldn’t help a small lift of the corner of his mouth seeing Aziraphale eating some grapes and cheering on the poor lad on stage. It was a pitiful sight, but Aziraphale was, well,  _ Aziraphale _ . 

“To be! I mean-  _ not _ to be. Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!”

How  _ couldn’t _ he do a little demonic miracle of his own for the sake of seeing that smile that graced Aziraphale’s face? Satan knew that Aziraphale was the only angel he would ever do a favor for. 

“Oh, yes, I’ll do that one, my treat”

“Oh,  _ really?” _

Crowley saw the corners of his angel’s eyes crinkle with delight and pure gratitude while he felt his own ears grow pink.

**He had seen it during the never-ending wars the humans seemed to have a death wish for.**

This Angel would be the end of him. Really, Crowley? Hopping like some idiot on the hallowed ground or some idiot beachgoers on a hot day? But the look of  _ relief _ and  _ affection _ that Aziraphale sent him. And when the idiot Nazis realized their kingdom had come, Crowley caught that devilish smirk that Aziraphale had when he knew that Crowley and he had outwitted them.  _ They _ had outwitted them,  _ together _ . They weren’t just doing things on their own. They could rely on each other even when they couldn’t rely on anyone else. And the  _ books _ .

“I forgot all the  _ books _ . Oh, they will all be blown to b-” 

Crowley had to pull himself away from that pure look of  _ adoration _ that Aziraphale beamed at him when Crowley had handed him the books from the piles of once holy rubble around them. All he could idiotically say while trying to play it cool was,

“A little demonic miracle of my own.  _ Lift home?” _

**He had seen it when he had sheepishly handed him that ridiculous tartan thermos with Crowley’s ‘insurance’.**

When he had originally asked Aziraphale for the Holy Water, he saw a mix of emotions he hadn’t seen from Aziraphale before. There were looks of  _ concern  _ and  _ ache _ . Now, he had seen these emotions before, but never towards  _ him _ . He could hear the quivering of his voice and see the slight rocking of the angel’s feet as if he wanted to move towards Crowley. Then there was anger. How could the demon possibly ask  _ him _ for that! His face read clear as day the looks of the betrayal from Crowley at even requesting such a thing. Give a  _ demon _ something so sacred to the angels, but not just that. How could Crowley request Aziraphale, Crowley’s  _ friend _ to bring him a suicide pill? Did Crowley think so lowly of him? How could he put him in such a place as to be directly responsible for the obliteration of one of the only beings in God’s universe that actually made him smile and reassure him when he felt doubt? 

Absolutely not.

Crowley never wanted to see that look again.

So, he never thought he’d see the unsure pleading look of penance on his angel’s face. How he couldn’t even make eye contact with the demon.

“It’s the real thing?”

Crowley didn’t miss the quiet timber of Aziraphale’s voice.

“The holiest.”

“After everything you’d said? Should I thank you?” 

“Better not.”

There was only a beat of silence before Crowley forced himself to speak up, anything to keep the angel there.

“Can I drop you anywhere?”

“No, thank you. Oh, don’t look so disappointed.”

Crowley had forgotten himself and Aziraphale hadn’t missed it. 

“-Perhaps one day, we could -I don’t know- go for a picnic; dine at the Ritz”

Something deep inside of Crowley was screaming at him to act now and do something. Don’t lose him.

“I’ll give you a lift,  _ anywhere _ you want to go.”

-Just as long as you are still with me and don’t look so disappointed in what we’ve done-

The longing look Aziraphale gave him as he considered what he should do sent chills and tremors up and down Crowley’s corporation. Those blue eyes showed how at war with himself he was. Aziraphale’s mouth opened not once, but twice before shutting. The way that the angel just stared at him with ache- It took the breath right out of Crowley. Perhaps there was hope that Aziraphale would allow himself this indulgence and finally let Crowley off the hook for the pain he had inflicted on his poor angel’s conscience.

“You go too  _ fast _ for me, Crowley”

And then he was gone, his eyes downcast to avoid Crowley’s reaction.

**He had seen the lovely cascade of Aziraphale’s emotions when they fed the ducks -when they had dinner -when Aziraphale would once in a while confide in Crowley; even when most of his problems and doubts ended with the word ‘ineffable’.**

No allegiance could shake Crowley’s colorful view of his angelic friend. 

  
  


___________________________________________________________________________

The last few years had been incredibly intense. Both Aziraphale and Crowley knew what they needed to do when it came to Warlock and then later Adam. They had their duties to their sides, but that was just a poor facade for where their duties really lied: The humans incarnate and each other.

“We can go off together.”

“Go off... _ together _ ?”

The softness in his voice and the look of revelation that crossed Aziraphale’s face brought hope to Crowley if only for a moment. And then it quickly fleeted, once again. It was the same damn thing over and over and over.

“Go off together?  _ Listen to yourself _ .”

“How long have we been friends? Six  _ thousand _ years.”

“Friends? We’re not  _ friends _ . We are an  _ angel _ and a  _ demon _ . We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don’t even  _ like you. _ ”

That was when he had to close his eyes. He truly could not look at the face of his friend when he said something so devastating as that to him.

“You  _ do. _ ”

He was pissed. How could Aziraphale say something like that? For six thousand years they had been skirting around the reasons they had grown so close together even while being said angel and demon. They made it work.

“ _ Even if I did _ know where the antichrist was, I wouldn’t tell you. We’re on opposite sides!”

The gravely voice that came out of Crowley wasn’t one he used lightly and he even surprised himself.

“ _ We’re on our side.” _

Did Aziraphale  _ not _ get it? They had always been alone. They only had each other and the past six thousand years. How did Aziraphale  **_not see it_ ** **?**

“There is no  _ our side,  _ Crowley. Not anymore.”

So he admitted it. He knew that what they had went beyond the gates of heaven or hell. If he would just  _ open his eyes a bit more and- _

“ _ It’s over.” _

Those three words had hit him harder than any had ever before. The way he said it - with such conviction to show Crowley how it was  _ true. _ It wasn’t just over,  _ they _ were over. He had had enough of the demon. He was done confiding in him - and drinking with him at his shop - and speeding down the streets of London looking terrified - and smiling at him like they were actually  _ friends _ and not just an angel and a demon on separate missions. It wasn’t worth it to keep his eyes open if there wasn’t anything to look forward to. He steeled himself from this devastation and did the only thing he could- turn away from who he thought was his only friend in the whole universe. 

“Happy Doomsday.” 

It hurt more than his fall had. 

  
  


_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Crowley had seen a lot in his 6,000 years on Earth. He thought he had seen everything by that point. Especially now that Aziraphale had called their friendship over. He didn’t think anything could be worse than that. How he was so wrong. He failed to realize that it isn’t only about what you can see, but  _ what you can’t.  _

After realizing he couldn’t just leave Aziraphale and their relationship in shambles, he raced back to A.Z. Fell and Co. in hopes of finding his angel, “You’re My Best Friend” playing through the Bentley’s speakers. No matter how many times he called at the angel, he wouldn’t pick up the phone. If the world was still standing at the end of the day, Crowley was going to buy Aziraphale a proper cell phone so he didn’t have to rely on his antique work phone. 

All those thoughts were interrupted with the distinct sound of sirens. Sirens weren’t uncommon in London, but the closer he got to the book shop, the louder they became. What he saw were flames. Hell on Earth a few hours too soon. His angel’s beloved shop was in flames. He quickly sauntered into the shop with the hopes of seeing his friend just sitting on a plush armchair having a spot of tea. How could he have been so blind?

“Aziraphale, where the Heaven are you, you idiot!?” 

He growled out at the top of his lungs, his teeth bared and his eyes scanning for any movement other than the licking flames swirling around him like hellfire . 

“I can’t find you!”

The distorted phonograph continued to play a warped tune as he felt all the muscles in his body clench with fear and anxiety for what he couldn’t see through his quickly melting sunglasses.

“Aziraphale! For God’s-- For Satan’s-- Ah!... For  _ somebody’s  _ sake, where are you!?”

What he could see was engulfing flames and the slow descent of burnt book pages fluttering all around him as he fell onto his back. He felt heat and pain and anger and  _ panic.  _ He whipped off his glasses and looked around once more in disbelief, seeing a blur of orange as tears filled his eyes. 

What he didn’t see was Aziraphale, nor did he think he ever would again. He was too late. He had let him down. He had failed.

“You’ve gone… Somebody’s killed  _ my best friend _ .  _ Bastards! Bastards, all of you!” _

  
  
  


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t over there, however. After he had been getting drunk in the bar and saw a murky vision of Aziraphale alive- _ ish _ , he knew the day wasn’t over. He couldn’t stop now.

Crowley remembered many things he had seen, but he would never forget when Aziraphale had risen his flaming sword high above his head and ready to strike Crowley with seeming confidence.

But again, Crowley saw that wavering reverence to the cause for the sake of what he knew was right and what Aziraphale truly felt inside. His friend was still in there. The angel he had seen for millennia. He wasn’t a fighter but incredibly determined to do what he thought was right. Time ago, Aziraphale had confided in Crowley and mentioned how he had never killed anything and how he didn’t think he ever could. The battling look of Aziraphale with himself and the possibility that the son of satan may have to meet his end at Aziraphale’s hands bothered the angel  _ incredibly _ . Crowley had never seen that in any demon or angel, for that matter. Aziraphale was determined and strong and steadfast with what he knew to be the right thing to do whether or not heaven would approve. 

“Come up with something or I’ll… I’ll never  _ talk to you again _ ”

Aziraphale’s voice may have wavered, but what Crowley saw in Aziraphale’s eyes was clear. True and unbreakable love and fear for what was to come if they didn’t figure this whole mess out. The unspoken thing they both saw and knew was that if they didn’t figure out what to do with the apocalypse and Adam, they really wouldn’t ever speak again. That was agonizing enough for Crowley to do anything for his angel and their side, allegiances be  _ damned _ . 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The feeling of relief and the lack of belief in what they had accomplished was enough for anyone in a day - ethereal or not.

After it was all said and done, reminding Aziraphale of his burnt down bookshop, he watched carefully at how Aziraphale would react. They were both a bit sensitive with all the losses they had experienced in the past 24 hours. The thought of running off together, the complete rejection of that idea, the burning of the shop and the loss of his beloved Bentley; it was a lot to handle. 

“I suppose I should get him to drop me off at the bookshop”

Crowley had to be oh so careful. 

“It burned down, remember?” 

The soft look of realization and grief flashed on Aziraphale’s face and something inside of Crowley yearned to pull him in close, his sharp nose settled deftly in the light curls. He did the next best thing.

“You can stay at my place-” 

Then a spot of hesitation before he quickly added,

“-if you like.”

What he was gifted was a small look of astonishment but perhaps an inkling of yearning.

After 6000 years of watching and observing Aziraphale, there was something truly awakening by that moment they shared. Crowley was a demon of few words. Some demons worked with words, while he liked to work in actions. He found the world a bit easier to enjoy when people kept their mouths shut. When you just watched and took everything in, you caught so much more. 

You learned a lot about yourself. 

He learned very early on that he cared for this peculiar angel. He learned later that he would go out of his way for this indulgent angel. He learned a bit after that, that he would risk everything for this pigheaded and passionate angel for the sake of speaking to him ever again.

But even after all that, what Crowley truly learned after 6,000 years was that he loved this angel;  _ his  _ angel: Stunning, soft, determined, unique, inquisitive, frustrating Aziraphale. And he always had, eyes open or closed. 

And here he was, once again. Crowley sitting opposite to where Aziraphale was sitting on his right raising his flute of champagne. He was taking him up on that offer of going to the Ritz. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else; front row to the thing he cared about seeing the most.

“To the world, Angel.”

“ _ To the world.”  _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I think we could all take the time to look a bit deeper into our own lives and see the details we usually miss. After all, what we can't see can still hurt us. I hope you enjoyed my interpretation of what Crowley was seeing through the millennia. 
> 
> Comments and Constructive Feedback Always Welcome : ) 
> 
> Tumblr: coveredincrumb


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